


Tied up

by Oshusta



Series: Game, Set, Match [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Banter, Cheeky Stiles Stilinski, Cora Hale is a Little Shit, Disabled Character, Erica Reyes is a Little Shit, Foreboding, Humour, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Pack Dynamics, Peter Hale is Old, Pre-Slash, Protective Derek Hale, Teasing, Teenagers, prosthetic leg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 18:17:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21396568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oshusta/pseuds/Oshusta
Summary: A Derek with a little less patience has to deal with the shenanigans of a hormonal, teenage pack. All the while a threat looms on the horizon.
Relationships: Cora Hale & Derek Hale, Cora Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale & Erica Reyes, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski & Vernon Boyd
Series: Game, Set, Match [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1128281
Kudos: 56





	Tied up

**Author's Note:**

> This is set before nightfall and after curious minds. I actually wrote this before I wrote either of those two.

Derek stepped out of the FJ cruiser, which was parked where Isaac had directed him to go; a depressing barn on a large block of abandoned land.

The barn itself was made of charring, weathered wood that had turned a dull grey, and Derek could hear it creaking when a strong gust of wind hurled through the air.

Peter had decided to sit this one out, claiming that his mental health was already deteriorating due to the overabundance of hormonal, teenage werewolves who were constantly getting into trouble. It reminded Derek of the time he dragged Cora out to mischief the neighbourhood. Once he'd even been brought into the station, but Sheriff Stilinski knew the Hale kids meant no harm, and no real damage had been done.

Cora was the one that had tagged along on this expedition, perhaps hoping to relive some of the adventures they'd had when they were younger. Or maybe she just wanted to embarrass her pack-mates.

“Do you think they’ll learn?” Cora asked, giving Derek a sideward glance. She didn’t appear all too concerned, which was fine; Derek wasn't either.

“Nope,” he responded, approaching the entrance of the bedraggled barn. The doors were hanging loosely on their hinges, and hadn’t appeared to be used in the last day.

With a roll of his eyes, he tugged the doors open, and they lurched to the sides.

“Did he actually just… rip the door off its hinges?” came Stiles voice from the darkness of the barn and Derek flashed his eyes momentarily to adjust to the gloom quicker.

His eyes narrowed on Isaac, who was leaning against a hay bale, his legs seemingly tied. He knew Jackson was there too, since his scent was fresh in the stale, dusty air.

Derek glanced to his right to locate Stiles, his left, then did a double take that nearly pained him in the neck. What on _earth_?

Stiles was hanging from the roof from the same coiled vine that Isaac was in.

The coil wound around his arms and across his midsection, so it didn't seem as if his blood circulation was being cut off. His arms were flopped up, and his leg hung limply. A quick glance to the ground told Derek that Stiles’ prosthetic limb had fallen off.

He stared wide-eyed at Stiles before bringing his hands to his face.

“You guys seriously know how to get in a sticky situation,” Cora piped up from behind him.

“Don’t they ever?” floated Erica’s voice out from the darkness.

There was a faint mumbling sound, muffled but audible. Derek walked over the source of it— behind a stack of hay— and found where Jackson and Erica where squatting.

Jackson was literally, all tied up, coil over his mouth. Erica was resting her legs in his lap, and when he spotted Derek he sent a desperate look his way. Derek wondered how Stiles had even dragged him along.

Derek rolled his eyes and turned away, evoking a very distressed noise from the beta.

Cora, who had picked up on the habit of carrying a blade everywhere from the Argents, (something about getting her nails unnecessarily dirty; “I don’t mind blood when the time comes, but cleaning out dirt gets annoying, Derek”), had climbed up to the wooden panelling where Stiles was hanging from and started sawing away at the coils.

“Hey-hey, Cora, Cora!” Stiles exclaimed, scrabbling at the coil, “Maybe you want to cushion my fall?”

“Ugh, I’m already up here.” Cora huffed, “Derek, drag some hay under him or something. And for God’s sake, _move_his leg!”

Derek rolled his eyes, which was starting to get painful, and wandered underneath Stiles to drag his leg away. It was surprisingly heavy, which he supposed was to maintain the human’s balance.

Stiles was pursing his lips, eyes wide, making the whole situation worse than it already was.

Derek smirked up at Stiles, entirely unsympathetic of his situation. Not when he got himself into this mess.

Then Derek eyes narrowed up at the coil wrapped around the teenager, which was moving around him on its own accord, and slithering around him like a snake. His stomach lurched at the sight, but Stiles barely noticed.

“Is that thing alive?” Derek asked.

“Yeah,” answered Stiles, casually, “It’s the only thing that’ll be wrapped around me for a while, so I’m soaking it up.”

Derek was busy thinking of a retort when a flash of movement above snapped him out his mind and Stiles’ foot flew at his face. He barely had a second to dodge, and he felt a shoe brush his hair.

Looking back at the dangling boy, he realised some of the coil had loosened. So, Stiles hadn’t been deliberately aiming a kick at his face.

Either way, Stiles expression was far from apologetic and Derek glared at him. He opened his mouth to threaten him.

The last of the coil was either cut or had slithered away, and Stiles fell flailing right on top of Derek.

Too dumbfounded to move and let Stiles land on the hay bales, he felt the full weight of force from him and collapsed, his knees buckling. The air was driven out of him with a gusty “oof!”.

“A little warning next time, Cora?” Derek wheezed, Stiles’ bony elbows digging into him.

Her head popped out from the shadows and gave him a mischievous grin before disappearing again. Derek would get her back for that.

Recovering quickly, Derek sat up, taking a moment to look over Stiles, who had slid down him and was strewn across his legs. There wasn’t any trace of injuries upon him, but Derek had long ago discovered that he was more than capable at hiding his pain, so Derek placed a hand on Stiles arm to feel for it and draw it out.

There wasn’t anything entirely damaging, so he quickly drew his hand away before Stiles’ noticed.

“_Ow…_” groaned Stiles. Derek couldn’t get rid of the winded feeling.

“Imagine how I feel,” grumbled Derek, sullenly.

“I…don’t have to. You're imprinted into me.”

Derek sighed, gently pushing Stiles off him to stand up. He brought the prosthetic limb over to the teen, because the thought of watching his feeble attempts at grabbing it made his stomach coil.

“Thanks,” Stiles wheezed.

Derek nodded, turning to help Isaac out.

It was easy enough, the snake-spirits were strong until you cut them open. They disappeared easily after that.

“Why’d you need our help again?” Cora asked drily, upon bringing the simplicity of the solution to the table after they’d returned to the Loft.

“I needed somebody else to witness the hilarity,” Erica explained. “Anyway, where was I?” she asked, in the middle of explaining about the situation and how they’d got into it.

“Jeremiah was doing his ‘evil-villain’ speech?” Derek reminded her with a dry tone.

“Right! So, then Jeremiah was like ‘where can I source your knowledge? Wikipedia?’ and then Stiles said ‘Wikia’, since the difference totally matters— “

“It does!” Stiles yelled across their library. Boyd hushed him. Derek turned his back on them as they began to bicker.

“When I said, ‘details’ I meant the important ones.” Derek pointed out.

“Beggars can’t be choosers Derek,” Erica scolded before continuing. “Anyway, the Bullfrog deemed Stiles puny and hilarious along with the rest of the pack, and how his 'vow to destroy Beacon Hills’ supernatural preservation' would be _so easy._”

“So, what? He’s planning to expose the Supernatural?”

“Something like that, although he might've meant something else entirely, like destroying all of humanity? Eh, who knows.”

Ah, yes. Derek remembered why he didn't listen to Erica’s explanations now.

The squabbling noises had increased behind him in what the pack called their study area, catching his attention.

Derek turned to see Boyd catching Stiles in a headlock and swinging him about. Beside him, Erica snorted but Derek was not impressed.

His chest rumbled with a warning growl that grew louder when it was ignored.

Boyd backed off, his arms slipping away from around Stiles, and submissively avoiding Derek’s hard stare. With a huff, Stiles turned to glare at Derek indignantly before returning to the textbook he was studying.

“Way to ruin the fun Derek,” Erica grumbled, but Derek ignored her.

“Was there anything _important_to take into notice?” he asked with a glare.

Sullenly, Erica shook her head, and retreated, joining the study group made up of Stiles, Boyd, Malia and Jackson on the couches in the Nook. Although, Derek was sure there wasn’t anything productive happening.

Derek just hoped they weren’t being paranoid about Jeremiah, and could continue to be the playful and carefree pack they were.


End file.
